It ain’t necessarily Byrd Avenue

The goldfinch, the very species that’s sat on the front page for the last eleven years, is usually a placid sort of bird: it will vigorously defend a nest under construction, but it’s otherwise not particularly aggressive. Unless, of course, I’m totally wrong about Carduelis tristis:

[T]wo mornings in a row have found a tiny goldfinch perched haphazardly on the screen of my office window pecking away at the fine mesh. Are there tiny bugs infesting the screen? Is there lint mixed with the dirt on the panes? Is he attacking his reflection? I don’t know. Dr. Doolittle did not deign to teach me to talk with the goldfinch. I do know the cute little bastard has torn holes in my screen.

I always wondered if the woodpeckers two blocks over were plotting a coup.

(Title swiped from Spanky and Our Gang.)

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